Dominos Doesn't Deliver Here
by emergencyfan
Summary: A collection of unrelated short stories, missing scenes, and ficlets about Atlantis. SGA not mine. Don't own 'em. Didn't create 'em. Stargate Atlantis and all related characters are the property of MGM.
1. Gone Fishing

This was inspired by the "you're going to need a bigger boat scene" from _Jaws_ which was referred to in the episode "Hide and Seek." It languished on a corner of my hard drive for a while before I gave up trying to incorporate it into a full-length story.

* * *

**GONE FISHING**

"Rodney, for Pete's sake would you sit still and be quiet, you're going to chase away all the fish!" complained Sheppard. He cast his line. It promptly whipped back and tangled itself around his pole.

"Like you know anything about fishing," said McKay, settling back on the grassy bank after checking the ground thoroughly for crawling insects.

"I know enough."

"Enough to drown worms," Rodney replied. "Where'd you get the gear anyway?"

"Stackhouse let me borrow it. Guess he figured with a name like Atlantis, there'd be some fishing opportunities somewhere on the planet." He finished untangling the line and made another cast, this time with better results.

"Why aren't you surfing or some equally disgusting athletic thing?"

"Why aren't you anywhere else but here?" countered Sheppard.

"I asked first."

Sheppard sighed. "So far the only good breakers I've been able to find are against rocks and I really don't want to spend any more time in the infirmary than I already have. Besides, fishing is a contemplative activity - good for the psyche. You?"

"Beckett said I needed some R&R. Sound familiar?"

"Oh, um. I might have mentioned your name. You know, just in passing. I was a little upset when he told me he was taking me off duty for the next two days whether I liked it or not."

"Really?" asked McKay, "I believe your exact words were 'Why are you taking me off duty when McKay's been running on two hours sleep a night for the last two weeks.'"

"What ever happened to doctor-patient confidentiality?"

"_Had_ to take me down with you, didn't you?"

"Look, I'm sorry. But that still doesn't explain why you're _here_. You know less about fishing than I do."

"I know when your bobber bounces like that, it means you've got a fish," he replied mildly.

"What? Oh!" Sheppard began awkwardly reeling in the line. A hand-sized fish wiggled and dangled on the end of the long pole. "Hey, look at that, I caught a fish!" he exclaimed, smiling proudly.

Suddenly, a large bubble erupted in the water in front of them and a behemoth head full of spiked teeth appeared, snapped the dangling fish, and disappeared back under the water taking half of Sheppard's pole with it.

Rodney sat bolt upright.

"You know," said Sheppard, quickly backing away from the water's edge, "I think I've had enough contemplation for today. How about you, McKay? Rodney?" He looked around and caught a glimpse of McKay's fast disappearing form as the scientist beat feet back to the jumper. He chuckled a little, shaking his head in amusement. Another huge bubble burst in the water in front of him and he quickly dropped the remainder of his pole and ran after McKay. "Wait up!"

**END**


	2. So Long, Rodney

I just couldn't believe that's all John said to Rodney at the end of Seige II before he went off to blow himself (and the wraith hive ship) to bits.

Not written as slash, but read into it whatever you want.

_

* * *

_

**SO LONG, RODNEY**

"So Long, Rodney." That it? That's all I get?

It's not like I expected a hug and a kiss and a tearful goodbye, but how about a handshake and a "_It's been nice knowing you_" or even a "_You've been a pain in the ass but I'll miss you_"?

Selfish bastard. It's just like you…thinking only of yourself…running off to fall on your sword, leaving the rest of us behind to do the real work.

I don't suppose it ever occurred to you to give _me_ the opportunity to say goodbye?

…and to tell you how much I detested your damn gung-ho attitude, that rotten charming façade, and your annoying penchant for self-sacrifice.

On second thought, maybe it's better I didn't get a chance to say anything after all.

Look at you - one single blip amid a bunch of other blips.

In a minute, your blip will disappear and you'll be gone in a blaze of glory: a hero's death. The military will be thrilled - probably award you all kinds of posthumous metals. Women will weep when they hear of your sacrifice. We'll erect a statue in your honor...

Yeah, you'd get a kick out of that, wouldn't you? Too bad you won't be around to enjoy any of it.

I might even miss you…if I didn't hate you so much.

I hate that you taught me what it is to have a friend…and to lose a friend. I hate how you could bring out the worst in me…and the best. But most of all, I hate you because I failed you.

No, wait…I'm pretty sure I hate me for that one.

So long, John.

**END**


	3. A Good Defense is the Best Offense

This bunny originally came knocking when I was working on my "Letters to Pegasus" series. I tried to make it a letter from either Daniel or Jack to Elizabeth but it just didn't work. It's much better, I think, as a conversation between Daniel and Jack. While it doesn't contain any Atlantis characters, it is about the Atlantis Expedition so I guess it could be considered a cross-over story.

* * *

**A GOOD DEFENSE IS THE BEST OFFENSE**

"Jack…"

"No, Daniel."

"Jack."

"No. One of the few benefits of being a general is that you don't _have_ to explain your decisions," said O'Neill from behind his SGC desk.

"Jack, she deserves an explanation and I think you know that." He crossed his arms as O'Neill continued to ignore him. "What are you going to do, just have Colonel Everett hand her a piece of paper saying 'great job, don't need you anymore'?"

"Daniel, this is no longer just a scientific expedition to an Ancient city. It's Earth's first line of defense against the Wraith." Jack leaned forward. "And I'm here to tell ya, from the reports I've read, they're right up there with the Replicators and the Goa'uld.

"I know." Daniel uncrossed his arms and pushed his glasses up a little further on his nose. "They are rather terrifying, aren't they?"

"I wouldn't want to meet one in a dark alley, no." Jack went back to the report he had been reading before Daniel had arrived in his office.

"I understand why you need a bigger military presence on Atlantis..."

Jack sighed and put down the report.

"…Dr.Weir will too. She's not naïve. I'm just saying it would be nice if you actually took the time to explain why it was necessary. I've read the reports, she's done an extraordinary job there considering everything they've had to deal with. If you just replace her as leader without…"

"Okay okay okay. I'll _think_ about it."

"Not one of those pithy memos either Jack. A real honest-to-goodness explanation."

Jack scrunched his face up in sarcastic disbelief. "Pithy?"

Daniel shrugged.

"Get out of here so I can finish this report."

"Thanks, Jack. You're doing the right thing."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm a real sweetheart," he said, waving distractedly and picked up reading where he left off.

**END**


	4. A Few Minutes More

Missing scene from "38 Minutes".  
(I'm not sure why, but I suddenly felt the urge to write a missing scene for this eppy--better late than never I suppose.)

Sheppard's POV after the jumper returns and before his team visits him.

* * *

**A FEW MORE MINUTES **

Slowly, he began to become aware of himself again. His neck hurt, his chest hurt, his head hurt. That was all though. There were no other sensations, no heat or cold, warmth or chill. Somewhere, there was a distant rhythmic squeaking. He cracked his eyes open the merest slit. The world spun around him and he closed them again.

"Doctor," someone warned.

A hand rested on his chest, but lightly, as if its owner knew how much he hurt. "Hold on, Major, almost there."

"_Almost where?_" he wondered, though to ask the question aloud required too much effort. He tried opening his eyes again, managing to increase the slit slightly this time. Things were still spinning--no wait, things were _sliding_.

The squeaking stopped and so did the sliding.

"On my count: one, two, three."

On "three" the world started moving again, this time sideways, but it stopped almost immediately.

"Get me another set of vitals, an EKG, and a suture kit."

That voice was familiar and safe; he let his eyes slid closed. Vaguely he recalled a frequent nightmare of his childhood--trapped in mud, unable to escape, when the monster inevitably showed up to eat him. An intense pain in the right side of his neck sharpened his thoughts and he grabbed at its source, his still-numb hands and arms obeying him sluggishly and without precision. "GET IT OFF! GET IT OFF ME!"

Someone grabbed his wrists, keeping him from pulling that _thing_ off his neck and he fought against them, impacting with something hard.

"OW! Major!" snapped an authoritative voice, firmly. "Calm down. It's off. It's off!"

He hesitated, his muscles still tensed.

"I promise you, it's off. Can you open your eyes for me?"

He tried and managed about half-way, finally coherent enough to recognize the ceiling of the infirmary high above him. After a few blinks, he managed to get them open almost all the way. Cutting his eyes around, he saw various medical staff and noted the I.V. hanging nearby. Carson was still gripping his wrists firmly--a small trickle of blood ran out of the doctor's nose. "It's gone?" he asked again, not quite believing the nightmare was truly over.

"Yes," replied the physician, loosening his grip slightly. "Are we okay now?"

"We?" he rasped. "Unless you've got a giant tick sucking the life out of your neck…"

"Point taken," agreed the doctor, releasing his hold completely now that he was sure his patient was cognizant of his surroundings. He took the tissue one of the nurses offered.

Sheppard realized that he was probably to blame for the red rivulet running down the physician's face. "Sorry about the nose."

"Don't worry about it," said Beckett, manipulating the organ carefully. "It's not broken." Another few dabs with the tissue cleaned up the blood that was left. After tossing the mess into a nearby trashcan, he reseated himself on the stool at Sheppard's head. "We need to clean out the wound and you're going to need a few stitches." Nodding to the nurse to hand him a syringe, he pulled on a set of gloves then gently probed the injury. "I'm going to give you a local before we get started."

Grimacing, Sheppard clamped his teeth together as the needle bit into the bruised skin of his neck several times in succession, slowly circling the wound.

"How are you feeling? The paralysis is obviously beginning to wear off," the doctor added wryly. "Are you getting any sensation back?"

"Some." Sheppard shifted slightly and was actually happy to feel the uncomfortable tingling in his hands and feet. "Pins and needles." He took a cautious breath. "My chest hurts, though--a lot."

"Not surprising. We had a little trouble getting you back."

"Oh." He had forgotten he'd been dead and wondered what Beckett considered a 'little trouble'. He didn't remember a white light or choruses of singing angels, then again, no flames or screams of despair either. And what was it with this damn galaxy that everyone in the military had to kill their superiors?

"Your EKG and bloodwork look good so far. I don't think there will be any permanent damage. We'll definitely be keeping you here a few days for observation, just to be safe. Still feel this?" he asked, prodding at the wound.

"Yeah."

"We'll wait a bit longer before we start, then." Handing the empty syringe back to the nurse, he patiently settled himself on the stool. "Can you wiggle your fingers and toes yet?" he asked, curiously.

Sheppard scrunched up his face and concentrated. He was rewarded by some small movements.

"Excellent." The physician reached out and took Sheppard's hands in his.

"Just so you know, hand-holding is as far as I go on the first date, Doc." He shot a boyish grin at the nurse who smiled back tolerantly.

"Hmmmm...that's not what I've heard," Beckett replied drolly. "Squeeze my hands? Hard as you can, now. Good enough," the doctor decided as he released them. "Let's see about this bite, now, shall we?"

The lidocaine had dulled the worst of the pain and Sheppard tried to stay as still as possible while the wound was flushed and stitched, though he couldn't suppress a twitch every now and then. To distract himself, he focused his attention on the pretty nurse who was assisting, and idly wondered if Dr. Weir had time to institute a fraternization policy yet.

"All done, Major," Beckett announced when he was finished, bundling up the trash and tossing it into the waste bin. "Now let's get you into some scrubs and settled in for the night. Then, if you feel up to it, you can have some visitors."

"Can I get something to eat?" he asked plaintively. He was suddenly ravenous.

"In a bit," promised the doctor. "I want to run some more blood tests first." He nodded at the nurse to bandage the wound. "I need to talk to a few anxious people in the waiting area and check on Lt. Ford."

Alarmed, Sheppard struggled to sit up. "Ford?"

"Easy, Major," said Beckett, clamping a hand on the injured man's shoulder to keep him prone. "He's fine. He had to blow the hatch so we put him on oxygen to be safe. I just want to give him a quick going-over before I release him."

Sheppard relaxed slightly. "So he'll be okay, then? What about the others—Markham and Stackhouse, and Teyla and Rodney?"

Beckett turned his restrictive hold into an encouraging squeeze before releasing his grip. "Everyone's going to be just fine, Major--

yourself included."

**END**


	5. John's Letter from Pegasus to fanfic wri...

The message John Sheppard should have sent back to earth. I posted this to the Yahoo SGAHC group (a group that specializes in writing h/c fic) and got several very witty responses. The writers kindly gave me permission to post them below, I encourage you to look up their fics on ff under the pen names listed.

* * *

**_A Letter From Pegasus That We Never Got to See..._**

**  
MEMO**

**TO:** SGAHC fan fiction writers

**FROM:** Major John Sheppard

**RE:** We need a vacation!

Please stop. Just for a week.

To date, I have suffered 187 concussions, 238 broken/cracked ribs, 52 gunshot wounds, 96 broken legs/arms, whiplash, amnesia, assorted bumps, bruises, strains, and sprains. Not to mentioned being kidnapped, drugged, infected, cloned, brainwashed, poisoned, stabbed, tortured, etc., on a fairly regular basis. I won't even list the injuries suffered by the rest of my team, but let's just say poor McKay should be a drooling cast-covered pile of ground chuck by now.

Really, just a week off, that's all we ask.

P.S. I forgot to mention being attacked by killer frogs & snake people, having an acid spewing sex-slave control chip implanted in my back, being turned into a seeping bloody sponge, drowning, crash landings, injured by biological weapons that look deceptively like rocket launchers, practically being turned into a wraith, possession by an alien entity, trapped in a computer game, attacked by wild animals...

* * *

**_Kodiak Bear Country's reply ..._**

**  
To:** Major John Sheppard  
**From:** SGAHC Writer

This is a notification that you have not applied for an official leave. If you wish to have a week off, then please submit the appropriate paperwork. We'll have our President sign the form, if approved.

This will guarentee you only the designated time frame from significant bodily injury, however, we need to point out that emotional duress is not covered in the clause, and we would need to draw up an appropriate addendum to the contract if this is also required.

And lastly, we've been notified of your impending promotion. Congratulations, and where should we send the card?

P.S. I hope you do realize that a promotion to Colonel also includes an increase in the amount of inflicted injuries per week. As with the following contract, this increase also includes Doctor McKay.

Sincerely yours,  
SGAHC Writer

* * *

**  
MEMO**

**TO:** SGAHC Writer

**FROM:** Major John Sheppard

**RE:** We need a vacation! (_response to your memo above_)

Quite a few of these happened when I was supposedly on leave recovering!

I have a few choice suggestions about where that card can go!

* * *

**_Kodiak Bear Country's reply ..._**

_  
_**To:** Major John Sheppard  
**From:** SGAHC Writer  
**RE:** reply

Do you have paperwork to support these claims? You must understand, we cannot simply go off of your word. There must be proof that your contract was infringed upon. If your claim is true, then we've done you a grave injury (quite literally) I'm afraid.

While I understand we appear to be a rabid bunch, we do have standards, and it's in every author's clause that they return you and Doctor McKay to original status. As far as I am to understand, we have upheld this part of our contract.

As for the card, when and if it does get sent, I should warn you that it may be in your best interests to have someone such as Sergeant Bates open it. I'm just saying...

Sincerely Yours,  
SGAHC Writer

**_

* * *

Wraithfodder's reply..._**

  
**MEMO**

**TO:** Major Sheppard

**FROM:** Stargate Command

**RE:** We Need a Vacation!

Dear Major Sheppard,

We have looked over your personnel records for your time on Atlantis, and according to the Personnel Department, your status is listed as a 'deduct' employee. While you are entitled to vacation time during your tenure on Atlantis, you are not entitled to personal time or sick time during the first six months.

We have added up the time you took as 'sick time' to recover from your various complaints, and you now owe the SGC approximately $248,0078.52. Please note that the Accounting Department will be sending you an exact summary within the next thirty (30) business days.

Thank you for doing business with the Stargate Command Personnel Department.

Regards,

Anonymous Flunky/Lacky  
SGC Personnel


	6. Countdown

**COUNTDOWN**

The tension in the room was unbearably thick as all eyes focused on the self-destruct countdown.

10, 9, 8, 7…

"I got it!" came a triumphant yell.

6, 5…

"Shut down the self-destruct," yelled Weir as she, Sheppard, and Rodney all began typing furiously on their keyboards.

4, 3...

"What the…? It won't accept my code!"

2, 1…

Who the hell left the caps lock on?"

**BOOM !**

**

* * *

**

Hope you thought it was amusing. It came to me about the third time I had to type in my password today. Good thing I don't have to abort auto destruct sequences or I'd be in trouble!


	7. White Light

Set during "The Siege".

**

* * *

**

WHITE LIGHT

"I'm sorry." In less than a second, my atoms were scattered in a brilliant flash and my corporeal body existed no longer.

I could feel my consciousness trying to expand. With just the slightest release on my part I felt sure it would start to grow exponentially, continuing until it encompassed the entire universe.

I wasn't ready to go yet, though. There were still things I wanted to know. Once I let my mind go, I knew they would become insignificant, forgotten motes. So I held tightly to the illusion of pulling myself together, in soul, if not in body. Just for a little while longer.

"_Elizabeth, Peter Grodin was aboard the satellite."_

Somehow, without being there, I felt her sorrow and everyone else's on Atlantis.

_"Understood. What's the status of the other two?"_

_"They're not coming any closer. Looks like they're rethinking their plans. At the very least, he's bought us some time."_

Well, that's something, I guess. Of course, I would have preferred to have blasted all three Wraith ships out of existence_ and _lived to tell about it, but we all have to take what we can get.

_"You can't do any more out there, Rodney. Return to Atlantis."_

She's right and he knows it, but he seems oddly reluctant to leave. As if by leaving he acknowledges and accepts that I'm really gone. I don't blame him. I'm not sure I've entirely accepted it myself, yet. Finally, he nods to Miller.

_"On our way."_

A little while later, McKay tells Miller that he's going to get some sleep. It will probably be his last opportunity for a while, he explains. He's lying. Instead, he lies down on the bench in the back of the jumper and stares at the ceiling for hours. I can see into his heart. He thinks he should have come back for me. That it wasn't worth it. That the coin of my death should have purchased so much more than destruction of one Wraith hiveship or better yet, should have never been spent at all. The depth of his sorrow and self-recrimination surprise me. I had no idea he had the capacity to care so deeply about any one person, and especially not me. I watch as he finally closes his eyes, causing a single tear to trickle down his cheek and drop to the jumper's floor.

The strain on my hold increases and time begins to accelerate, the speed increasing the longer I linger. Hours fly by like seconds. I see Everett arrive. I see the Wraith attack and Atlantis defend. Throughout, I feel other minds expanding around and through me, eager to continue on _their_ journey, but I am still not ready yet. I see Sheppard in his jumper and for a moment I think I will have company in my vigil but strangely I'm not disappointed when I don't. I see Ford in the water and Everett drained. I see Rodney, his precious ZPM, his Dirty Harry impersonation. I see a shield and a bombardment. I see the Daedalus take the fight to the Wraith. I see a massive explosion and Atlantis vanish. For an instant, I think it was all for nothing after all, but then I see her reappear in all her glory.

The strain is becoming too great now and I can feel the threads of my mind start to unravel. But it's okay. I have seen all I needed to see.

I reflect on some of the things I've learned in my life: People change and grow constantly; just when you think you have them figured out, you realize that you don't. You can only try to put your life to good use and hope your death serves an even better purpose. Life, as we know it, is just an illusion - we are all spiritual beings having a physical experience. You can't play rock, paper, scissors with three people.

I release the tethers on my mind and become one with the Universe.

**END**


	8. Heartfelt Lies

WARNING: You are now entering a ship zone.  
Thanks to my beta reader, NebbyJen (though I claim credit for all mistakes).

* * *

**HEARTFELT LIES**

Simon knew he couldn't tell her. If he told her, she would stay. She wouldn't even consider any other option. Her loyalty was one of the things he admired most about her, but it could also be a real pain in the ass sometimes. Atlantis was an adventure of a lifetime and he couldn't deny her that, even though he wanted her to stay and help him fight this. If she left now, she would lose her influence and momentum. They'd give command of Atlantis to someone else. He couldn't--no, he _wouldn't_ ask her to give all that up. He knew she would be furious he made the decision without her--_if_ she ever found out.

There were rumors, she had told him. Talk of replacing her with a military commander. If they replaced her, she would stay. Fate would have made the decision for them both. So he bided his time. He sent in the applications and other paperwork at her encouragement, even included the records from his last check-up--there being nothing in them to make anyone suspect. Of course, Stargate Command would insist on full medical work ups on all personnel before they were accepted for Atlantis. He would never pass those. He also didn't sign the contract, hoping that maybe he would be weeded out early in the selection process without her knowledge as to the reason, knowing she wouldn't fight her _own_ people on their decisions regardless of her personal feelings.

He rescheduled his treatments so that he wouldn't be sick while she was home. He hadn't lost much hair yet and had kept it longer to better hide the patchy areas. Doctors undergoing cancer treatments didn't tend to instill confidence in their patients either so it served both purposes. Elizabeth remarked on his weight loss but he told her he was trying a new vegetarian diet and she had accepted it without further inquiry. He made a point of doing the cooking while she was home to further allay any suspicions. She was spending most of her time and energy at the SGC anyway, preparing for her return to Atlantis, and fighting the bureaucracy whenever possible to make sure things worked out the way she knew they needed to.

He was so proud of her. How she had refused to back down and instead fought Caldwell and Landry every step of the way. She had always been strong before, but now, there was something more. Atlantis had changed her in subtle ways. He loved to watch the sparkle in her eyes when she talked about it. The excitement practically radiated off her. He wanted nothing more than to go and share that experience with her, but that wasn't a possibility. Not now. Maybe later though, if he beat this. The odds were in his favor. Slightly.

In the end, the choice was left to him after all. If you could call it a choice. He knew he'd never forgive himself if she stayed because of him. So he worked out a lie. A foolproof way to make sure she felt free to go, and one where she wouldn't probe too deeply and discover the lie for what it was.

"I met someone."

The look on her face broke his heart, but he held firm. If he survived, he could explain it all to her later. She might forgive him. She might not. There was only one thing that he did know for certain, and that was that Atlantis was where she belonged.

**END**

* * *

Yes, I'm still holding out for Simon/Weir and yes, I know I'm delusional. It's my little world and I like it here! I now return you to the ship-free zone. 


	9. Miracle on a Roll

Missing scene from "Duet".

* * *

**MIRACLE ON A ROLL**

"I prefer this," said Ronon, pulling out his pistol in one fluid movement and blasting a large hole in the middle of the target before twirling it and slamming it back into his holster.

"I can see why you would," Sheppard replied, looking through the hole that would have meant certain death if their target had been a man or Wraith rather than a paper target.

"Your weapons are far inferior."

"Gee, thanks," said Sheppard. He picked up his pack from the floor and started rummaging around in it. "Ah!" he said, pulling out a silver object. "Here." He offered it to Ronon who looked at it suspiciously for a moment before holding out his hand to receive it.

"This is a weapon?" It was soft and hardly something he would have chosen; however, there were many times in the past when he had used whatever came to hand.

"Not a weapon," said Sheppard. "Watch." He took it back and proceeded to demonstrate the many and varied uses of the almost magical object.

Twenty minutes later, Ronon was impressed though he made a point of not showing it. Sheppard noticed the gleam in his eye though. "Here, keep it, might come in handy." He handed it back to the runner. "General O'Neill once told me to never leave home without it."

Ronon accepted it and gave the slightest nod of acknowledgement before exiting, guards in tow.

Shaking his head in amusement, Sheppard began packing away the guns they had used earlier but turned when he heard the door open again, surprised to see Ronon. "Yes?"

"You did not tell me what this device was called."

"Oh didn't I?" asked Sheppard nonchalantly. "It's duct tape."

**END**

* * *

AN: Before some of you DIYers decide to write me, let me just say that "Duck"was the original brand name of what eventually became duct tape. So either Duck tape or duct tape is perfectly acceptable. It's just a matter of preference :-)


	10. Another Blue Shirt Bites the Dust

Missing scene for "Intruder".

This went through several revisions (this was the 4th version), much to the dismay of my poor put-upon beta'er, Jen, who was forced to read every one of them. The first version was longer and had more h/c, but this version seemed to fit into the confines of the missing timeframe, and the feel of the flanking scenes, the best. Also, I need to apologize to Jen, since it was originally her plot bunny. (It was such a cute and cuddly bunny that I _had_ to snatch it for myself when she was done.)

* * *

ANOTHER BLUE SHIRT BITES THE DUST

"Lindstrom! Lindstrom, are you reading me?" When it became obvious the scientist couldn't hear him, Rodney picked up the phone. "Lindstrom! Are you reading me?" He could see the flash of warning lights on the monitor. "What the hell are you doing? The airlock's opening! Override the system!" He watched helplessly as Lindstrom called to him for help. "Lindstrom!" he called desperately. The airlock opened, and Lindstrom was sucked into space within a fraction of a second. Rodney stared at the monitor in horror. "Oh my God!"

Rodney stared at the screen for a long moment, still trying to wrap his stunned mind around the events. One second Lindstrom was alive and well, the next, gone. Blown into the vacuum of space. Lindstrom may have been new to the Atlantis mission, but Rodney had worked with him before. They had gotten along surprisingly well. Rodney had no delusions about the way his fellow scientists perceived him. The easy-going Lindstrom had managed to completely ignore Rodney's acerb nature. In fact, McKay had been the one to encourage the scientist to apply for this mission. He leaned his head against the wall, trying to block out the memory of Lindstrom's face and his frantic cries for help before the airlock opened. After a few seconds, he succeeded and flipped the intercom switch. "Colonel Caldwell, this is McKay."

"Not now, Doctor, we have an airlock breach and the computer won't let us re-pressurize that area."

"I know that," his voice caught and he coughed several times.

"_Doctor?"_

Rodney cleared his throat. "Lindstrom was in the airlock."

"_What!"_

"There was a coolant leak…" He paused to catch his breath.

_"Nevermind, I'll be right down."_

oOo

People rapidly cleared a path as Caldwell made his way down to the power distribution room. On the way, he radioed for both a medical and a security team, then belatedly called Weir and Sheppard, giving them what little information he had. Two people had died on his ship and that was two too many. Had the entire ship gone insane? Cameras, door controls, and now airlocks? He arrived at the same time as the medical team. "What the hell is going on?"

Rodney pointed to the monitor. "Lindstrom…coolant leak…airlock," he managed to squeeze out between short gasps.

Weir and Sheppard arrived in time to hear the response.

"Coolant? What kind of coolant?" Beckett eyed Rodney worriedly and turned to confer with the Daedalus medic who had accompanied him.

"I appreciate your concern, Carson, but I'm fine."

Beckett ignored him and unlooped his stethoscope from around his neck. After listening to Rodney's chest a few moments, he took the oxygen mask the medic offered, and handed it to the scientist.

Rodney obediently took a few breaths before handing it back to Beckett. "I need to run a diagnostic."

With long-suffering patience, Beckett replaced the mask over the scientist's face and proceeded to check his pulse. "Your heart is racing."

Rodney pulled the mask off again. "Yes, well, I just saw a colleague blown out of an airlock. Despite what some people may think," he snapped, shooting Sheppard an angry look, "Things like that do affect me." The last bit came out a little squeaky and Rodney took a few more breaths of oxygen before lowering the mask again.

"Ford," thought Beckett, sadly. He had walked in on an argument between the two men just a few days ago. Rodney had apparently made some comment in regards to the missing young lieutenant, undoubtedly displaying his usual lack of tact and diplomacy judging from Sheppard's response. The new lieutenant colonel had been in the middle of accusing Rodney of being a cold, unfeeling, hard-hearted son of a bitch when Beckett had interrupted them. Weir had taken both men aside separately, informing Rodney that Sheppard had been to see Ford's family and was obviously still upset, and reminding Sheppard that just because Rodney lacked interpersonal skills didn't mean he wasn't affected by the loss of their teammate. Since then, the men had appeared friendly enough towards one another, at least on the surface. Those who knew them well, though, could tell there was still a certain distance between them, almost as if they needed to find their balance again. Beckett forestalled any reply from Sheppard by placing the oxygen mask back on Rodney face and shooting the newly promoted lieutenant colonel a warning glance as he checked Rodney's pulse again.

Annoyed, Rodney lowered the mask and twisted his wrist from Beckett's grasp in irritation. "I already told you - I'm fine." He needed to solve this, find the reason for Lindstrom's death. He owed the man that much. And he couldn't do it with Carson fussing over him.

Beckett knew a lost cause when he saw one. Rodney's color had improved, and though he was still raspy, he was no longer coughing. Further intervention on his part would only antagonize the scientist further. "He's right - it appears he didn't inhale enough toxins to cause any permanent damage." He grasped the wrist of the hand in which Rodney was holding the oxygen mask and pressed it firmly to the scientist's face one last time, though he knew it was a wasted effort. "Although a few more seconds of exposure would have been quite a different story." Rodney might refuse to acknowledge it but _they_ needed to understand how close they had come to losing three scientists that day instead of two.

"Thank you, Doctor," replied Caldwell.

Beckett gave Rodney's shoulder an encouraging pat before he and the medic left.

**END**


	11. Icarus

Missing scene for "Intruder".  
A short conversation between Weir and Caldwell that takes place after the virus has been eradicated.

_

* * *

_

**ICARUS **

"Colonel," greeted Weir as she, too, helped herself to a late night cup of coffee in the otherwise empty Daedalus mess hall.

Caldwell acknowledged her with a nod. "Doctor."

"It's been an interesting day," she said, trying to break the ice. While she didn't care for the Colonel's attitude towards Atlantis, or more specifically her running of it, there would be times when they would need to work together. She was too much of a diplomat not to know it would be in her best interest to start laying the foundation for at least a cordial, if not congenial, working relationship.

Caldwell glanced at her, instantly recognizing the intent of her comments. "Yes, it has." He held out his hand towards a nearby table in invitation.

Weir smiled slightly and took a seat opposite him. With the rush to get the extra personal and equipment approved in time for the trip back, there hadn't been time for private conversations while still on Earth. Caldwell had been busy with his duties on board the Daedalus since they left so this would be their first opportunity to talk one-on-one. Knowing the Daedalus commander was a straight shooter who considered diplomacy 'beating around the bush', she threw caution to the wind and got straight to the heart of the matter. "You don't think much of the scientists and their work on Atlantis, do you?"

Caldwell smiled a bit at her bluntness. "I do, when it results in something usable."

"Usable as a weapon you mean."

He shrugged, taking another sip of coffee.

"Our priority, first and foremost," said Weir, leaning forward, "should be discovering information that will benefit humanity."

"If you say so, Doctor," Caldwell replied neutrally.

"You don't agree?" It was more a statement than a question.

He sighed, putting down his cup of coffee. "Frankly, no. Our priority should be finding information that will benefit the _military_."

"That's a rather narrow viewpoint, don't you think?" she asked, leaning back in her chair.

"Like it or not, Doctor, without the military there wouldn't _be_ any humanity left to benefit from all your wonderful discoveries. In fact, if it wasn't for the military, there wouldn't even be an Atlantis." He picked up his mug and took another sip. "Or have you forgotten the Wraith already?"

Weir leaned forward, uncurling her clenched fingers from her mug and setting it down with deliberate care on the table in front of her. "If you'll recall, our scientists did have a _little_ part in the defense of the city," she said sarcastically. "And I don't need you to remind me about the Wraith. I have lost too many of _my_ people, both scientists _and_ military, to forget about them so quickly."

Caldwell studied her for a moment noticing the tight line of her body and the signs of barely suppressed anger. "I apologize, Doctor. That was uncalled for."

Though she was still upset, she made it a point to keep an even tone when she replied. "Yes, it was." She picked her cup back up and took a sip. "Dr. Beckett has given Dr. McKay and the colonel a clean bill of health," she said, subtly berating him for not asking after their well-being sooner.

In fact, he had had Beckett report to him personally once the doctor had examined the two men but he saw no need to justify himself to Weir, or anyone else for that matter. "Dr. McKay has assured me that we have completely wiped out the virus," he replied instead, refusing to be baited.

"So long as you have your priorities straight," Weir countered, failing to keep the ire out of her voice.

He sighed. Being the big bad military wolf to Weir's little red riding hood was quickly becoming tiresome. "Not that I need to explain myself to you, Doctor, but believe it or not, I _was_ worried about them." He took another sip of coffee and his lips quirked in a small, unbidden smile as he thought about the newly promoted lieutenant colonel. "I thought Sheppard was going to pull an Icarus for sure."

Weir blinked at the sudden change in subject. "A what?"

"What do you know of Daedalus?"

She looked around the mess hall, puzzled.

He grinned a little at her confusion and clarified, "The Greek myth." Seeing he had her interest, he continued, "Daedalus was imprisoned on Crete where he built wings from feathers and wax so he and his son Icraus could escape. Icarus flew too close to the sun which melted the wax in his wings, sending him falling into the sea where he perished."

"You don't seem like the superstitious type," Weir said, her smile held just a hint of mischief.

"I'm not," responded Caldwell defensively. Then he relaxed a little when he realized she was teasing him. "However, you have to admit that it hit a little too close to home for comfort." Standing, he drained the dregs of his cup, grimacing slightly as some of the grounds found their way into his last sip. "Have a good night, Doctor."

She watched as he made his way across the cafeteria towards the exit. Still smiling slightly, she called after him. "Tell me, Colonel, do you know all the Greek myths or just the ones that have warships named after them?"

Caldwell turned back towards her. He opened his mouth to reply but closed it, looking suspiciously at her and trying to decide if there was some hidden barb to her comment. "There's a lot about me you don't know, Doctor Weir," he said simply, before exiting.

**END**

* * *

It didn't take long for folks to bring up the fact that Weir would have most certainly had a liberal arts education. Good for you! I did pondered on that a bit when I was writing this, especially since she ran the SGC for a short period of time and would have been exposed to Daniel's mission reports and his vast knowledge of various myths and lore even if she managed to miss it in high school or college. So in the end, Weir doesn't actually say she's not familiar with the story, she's just too thrown for a loop to say anything when Caldwell starts talking about it. 


	12. Stunned

Takes place after The Seige III.

* * *

**STUNNED**

"Colonel, Rodney, respond please!" Weir turned from the communications console and exchanged a worried look with Beckett.

A second later there was a hiss of static and gasps as whomever was on the other end of the transmission obviously tried to catch his breath to respond. In the end, he didn't and the radio went dead again.

"I'll put a hazmat crew together," Beckett said, running from the control room. Within minutes he and two members of his medical staff were making their way towards Rodney and Sheppard's last known position. The two men had been exploring the west pier when they had apparently run into some sort of trouble.

As Beckett rounded the corner, he could see the two men slumped on the floor. Rodney was gasping for air. The colonel wasn't doing much better and was leaning against the wall, his eyes glazed and unseeing.

One of the medics began setting up oxygen as Beckett knelt down beside Sheppard. Tapping the man gently on the cheek he asked, "Colonel?"

With effort, Sheppard focused on the Scott's face, half hidden, as it was, by the orange suit the physician was wearing. "It's…I just…" He waved vaguely at the nearby door. "the room…I can't…" he trailed off, obviously losing his grasp on the here and now.

Beckett glanced at the closed door of the room Sheppard had indicated as he checked the Colonel's pulse, worriedly. It was fast but strong beneath his fingertips, and he could feel the Colonel's shaking. "He seems to be in shock," he said to his staff. Noticing that Sheppard's eyes were tearing, he began automatically making a mental list of the various poison gases and other substances that were known to cause eye irritation. "This could very well be airborne." He turned so he could see the medical tech through his face shield. "How is Rodney? Why don't you have the oxygen set up yet?"

"He's um…"

"He's what, man? Spit it out."

"He's hyperventilating, Sir."

Beckett jerked his head back in surprise. "He's what?"

"Hyperventilating."

"Well, give him a bloody paper bag then!" snapped Beckett.

Rodney snatched the brown bag out of the tech's hand and held it to his face with both hands as if his life depended on it.

With a quick glance at Sheppard to make sure the man was in no immediate danger, Carson looked at the door curiously. Checking to make sure his suit was functioning at a hundred percent, he walked over and palmed the door open. He stood there, staring, until the door finally snapped shut in front of his face. As he turned to face the group in the corridor, his knees gave out and he slowly slid down the wall.

"Sir? Sir? Are you okay?" ask the medic who had taken over the monitoring of Sheppard's vitals.

Beckett just shook his head from side to side, dazed.

The medic gave a quick glance at Sheppard before getting up and crossing over to his boss. "Doctor Beckett?" he asked, peering through the suit's face shield. There was no response.

"What the hell?" asked the tech who was still attending to Rodney.

The medic shook his head and stood up. Taking a determined breath he reached for the door control.

"No, wait, are you crazy?" said the tech. But it was too late. The door slid open and the medic looked in. "Well, what do you see?" he asked impatiently after a few seconds had passed.

"Octopi."

"What…as in octopus? Are they in some sort of tank or something?"

"No. They're stacked up in rows. There must be hundreds of the things," said the medic.

"Thousands," wheezed Sheppard, still staring distractedly into space.

The medic shrugged, confused by everyone's response. "They're not alive. They look, I dunno, like they're rubber, or maybe plastic." He looked down at Beckett who was mumbling. "What's that, Sir?"

"I don't bloody believe it," Beckett repeated a little louder.

"Drones," wheezed Rodney, now that he had his breathing better under control. "They're drones."

"There were here. Right here. Under our nose. The whole time," said Sheppard. Tears coursed down his cheeks as he shook from a combination of mirth, disbelief, and amazement.

**END**


	13. Freefall

Takes place after "Duet".

**

* * *

**

**FREEFALL**

Sheppard stopped by the mess hall for an early morning cup of coffee before heading out to his favorite balcony. He had already walked several steps onto it before he realized it was currently occupied. Carson Beckett and Laura Cadman were leaning on the railing overlooking Atlantis, deep in conversation

Sheppard paused, unsure if he would be interrupting, but Beckett turned and saw him.

"Good morning, Colonel," he greeted, smiling.

Taking the greeting as an invitation, Sheppard walked over to join them at the rail. It appeared that Lieutenant Cadman, like Sheppard, was enjoying a cup of coffee and a few minutes of peace before her duty shift started - not to mention the company of a certain Atlantis physician.

"Morning, Doc," Sheppard said. "Lieutenant," he acknowledged with a nod of his head, including her in his greeting.

"Good morning, Sir," replied Cadman cheerfully, obviously not at all uncomfortable to have been found in Beckett's company by her commanding officer.

Sheppard grinned inwardly at the idea of McKay being forced to share his mind with such an uninhibited personality.

She drained the last of her cup and checked her watch. "Duty calls. I enjoyed our talk, Carson."

"I'll see you tonight at the movie then?" Beckett asked.

"You betcha," she replied, grinning. "It's _Braveheart_!" She leaned in and said something that Sheppard couldn't quite catch but he did hear the word 'kilt' and saw Beckett turn bright red before she gave the doctor a grin and a friendly slap on the arm. "Sir," she said, giving Sheppard a nod before exiting the balcony.

Carson turned to watch her leave.

"You two an item now?" Sheppard asked. Though he made it a point not to interfere in the personal lives his subordinates unless it affected their work, he _was_ curious.

Carson shrugged and smiled before turning back to look over the railing. "She's a lovely lass."

"I'm not sure that's how McKay would describe her." He received another grin in reply. There was a yell from above and Sheppard only had a split second to realize someone flashed by the balcony, plunging towards certain death below. He bent over the railing and watched in horror, then relief, as a parachute blossomed open and the jumper began heading towards the north pier in lazy circles. A touch on his arm startled him.

"Sorry," said Beckett handing him his now empty, and slightly chipped cup.

Sheppard took it numbly. He hadn't even realized he'd dropped it. Glancing back and forth between Beckett and the jumper a few times, he noticed the doctor didn't seem quite as surprised by the incident. He narrowed his eyes, "You know something about this?"

The doctor leaned on the railing, watching the brightly colored chute continue its decent. "I'm guessing that'd be Dr. Suzy Yamamoto."

"And just what the hell does Dr. Yamamoto think she's doing?"

"Apparently, it's called base jumping."

Before Sheppard could question him further, his radio came alive with a multitude of panicked transmissions. It took him several minutes to get them all straightened out. In the meantime, the parachute continued to float lazily toward the ground, concluding in perfect landing on the end of the pier. He radioed Lorne. "Please _invite_ Dr. Yamamoto to…" He wanted to say 'the brig'. "…my office. You'll find her on the North pier." He turned his attention back to Beckett. "A little warning would have been nice, Doc."

"I didn't know what she was planning to do on her day off or I would have let you know, Colonel," said Beckett, looking guilty nonetheless.

"Any other hobbies of hers I should know about?"

Beckett snorted before he realized Sheppard was far from amused. He wracked his brain trying to place the bits and pieces of the various files he had read. "Origami and horseback riding…I think?"

Sheppard muttered something unpleasant under his breath. Taking one last look towards the north pier, he headed back inside and down the hallway towards his newly acquired office.

"Colonel!"

He stopped in his tracks and turned to see Beckett standing in entrance to the balcony.

"Judo, too," he said, then cringed when Sheppard stared at him stonily before deliberately turning away and continuing toward his office.

Technically he had no jurisdiction over the civilians in a non-military situation so he knew he needed to walk a fine line. He could expect little, if any, support from Weir. He suspected that she'd tell him that the expedition member's hobbies were none of his business. Of course, what she really meant was that civilian hobbies were none of the military's business. For such an accomplished diplomat, she could see things strictly black and white when she wanted to…or rather camo and white. She certainly never went out of her way to make things easy for the military personnel she worked with, not even a certain recently promoted lieutenant colonel. What Elizabeth didn't know though, wouldn't hurt her. By the time Dr. Yamamoto arrived, he had pasted on his most charming smile. He was expecting someone short and dark-haired but managed to suppress his surprised when a medium-height blonde walked in instead. He nodded a dismissal to Lorne. "Please have a seat, Doctor," he said, taking one himself, "Coffee?"

"No thank you, I never drink the stuff. Terrible for your body."

Sheppard considered saying that it was probably a hell of a lot safer than flinging one's self off the spires of Atlantis, but held his tongue.

"Interesting hobby you have there," he said indicating the parachute she had tucked under one arm.

"Yes it is." She was flushed and obviously still a little high from the adrenaline rush.

He saw she wasn't going to make this easy for him. "You caused quite a stir."

"Did I?" Her tone clearly said she had dealt with close-minded people before and had little doubt he fit neatly into that category.

It irked him. He hated being predictable. "Yes, I received no less than twelve calls this morning from various individuals and departments. Dr. Kavanagh apparently caused a panic in the physics lab when he started screaming that Wraith paratroopers were attacking the city."

"I see, Sir."

She sounded contrite but Sheppard could see the corner of her mouth quirk with a suppressed smile. He held his own smile firmly in check. "Only my men call me 'sir'. Call me either John or Colonel, whichever makes you more comfortable." He poured every ounce of charisma he could muster into his smile but she was apparently charm-proof.

"Are you forbidding me from further jumps, _Colonel_?"

With that one word she had made it clear that she knew he had no jurisdiction over her. "Not at all. Your…hobby…is your business. I'm just _requesting_ that you inform one of the sergeants or me before you indulge in this particular hobby in the future -- so that we can anticipate and curtail any problems that may occur as a result."

She considered his request a moment; obviously surprised that he wasn't going to try and forbid her from jumping altogether and stood, holding out a hand. "I think I can do that, Colonel."

Sheppard smiled and stood, taking her hand in his own and pumping it once before releasing it. "I appreciate your cooperation."

"In honor of our newfound…understanding…I should tell you that I'm planning on making several more jumps today."

"Thank you. I'll inform the appropriate personnel."

She gave him a brief smile before turning towards the door. She stopped at the threshold and turned back, "Care to join me, Colonel?" One eyebrow raised in challenge. "I brought extra chutes."

"No. Thanks. I'll stick with coffee," Sheppard said raising his cup towards her in a toast. She gave him a mock salute before disappearing out the door.

Suzy rounded the corner and paused.

"Well?" asked the person who lounging in the hallway, just out of sight of Sheppard's office.

Suzy held out her hand expectantly. "He said I could keep jumping, just asked me to inform him first. Didn't so much as raise his voice once."

Elizabeth Weir reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out a Snicker's bar and slapped into into Suzy's hand with a wry grin. "Payment as promised."

Suzy tucked the candy bar away in her jumpsuit. "_Now_ can I ask why?"

"It's good training for him," Elizabeth replied smugly. There was a mischievous twinkle in her eyes as she added, "and it's fun for me."

**END**


	14. The House Call

The bunnies have been a real pain in the ass lately. They love starting things, but do they follow through? Na'oooo. This probably would have made a great beginning to a full-length fic; but after dumping this scene on me, they left to go do whatever bunnies do when they're not gleefully interrupting my slumber. I apologize to my fellow h/c folks for not exploiting this to its full potential. :-)

* * *

**THE HOUSE CALL**

The sun in his face, along with the freezing temperature, woke Sheppard from a fitful sleep. He blinked against the bright rays and turned toward his bedside table, looking for his watch and groaning as his neck muscles vehemently protested the movement. After two tries he managed to snag it from the nightstand and blinked at it blearily -- eleven o'clock in the morning. Granted, he liked to sleep in whenever possible, but that was late, even by his standards.

He tried to sit up but failed, falling back on his pillow as the room swam dizzily around him and the rest of his muscles took up complaining in earnest. After a few minutes of inactivity he felt a little better and reached out blindly, fingers scrabbling across the bedside table until they found what he was looking for. He turned on the radio and held it to his ear. "Doc?" He grunted and flipped the radio around so that the mouthpiece was pointed the right direction this time. "Doc, you there? This is Sheppard."

"_Colonel, what can I do for you?"_ replied the cheerful Scottish brogue.

Sheppard kicked out petulantly at the twisted blanket but his icy right foot remained stubbornly uncovered. He sighed and gave it up as a lost cause. "Mind if I drop in on you?"

Beckett's tone instantly turned professional. _"Is there something amiss?"_

"I feel like I've been worked over with a baseball bat and tossed in a freezer…does that count?" He could almost picture the doctor's gears turning.

"_When did you start feeling poorly?"_

"I woke up just now, feeling like crap."

_"I see. Try not to interact with anyone on your way down, will you? The last thing we need is a flu epidemic working its way through the base."_

"Thanks for the sympathy," remarked Sheppard dryly as he clicked off the radio and reached over to put it back on the nightstand. He missed the small table and the radio dropped to the floor with a soft thunk. _Damn it._ Sighing, he levered himself up on one elbow and reached down for it, and was hit by another wave of dizziness that threatened to tip him out of bed. _On second thought. _He rolled over onto his back and closed his eyes tightly, waiting for it to pass.

"Colonel?"

Blinking a couple of times to clear his vision, he realized he was no longer alone. His mind quickly labeled the intruder as friend, not foe. "Oh...um...hey, Doc," he rasped, a little confused to find Beckett in his room.

"I thought you were coming down to see me," said Carson. He was sitting on the edge of the bed and frowning in concern.

"That was the plan…" The angle of the sunlight streaming into his room indicated it was probably past noon which explained the doctor's presence. "I guess I fell asleep though," he added lamely.

Beckett gave a noncommittal grunt and patted his pockets for a moment before pulling out a thermometer and slipping it into Sheppard's ear. "Muscle aches, you said…any dizziness or nausea?"

"Yes on the dizziness, no nausea though."

"Well that's something," said the doctor as he removed the now beeping thermometer. "Thirty-nine."

"What's that translate to in _real_ temperature?"

Snorting in amusement, Beckett did a rough calculation in his head as he prepared to take a blood sample. "A hundred and two degrees. You, Colonel, are most definitely sick." He tied a piece of rubber around Sheppard's upper arm.

"Really? What gave it away?" he snapped sarcastically, wincing as the needle entered his skin.

Carson untied the elastic band and gave him a wry smile, watching the tube fill slowly with blood. "Your sweet disposition, for one. Have you been taking lessons from Rodney?"

Sheppard caught the gentle reprimand. "Sorry, Doc," he said, sheepishly.

"It's alright," said the doctor, withdrawing the needle and taping a small bandage in place over the puncture before tucking the blood sample safely away into his bag. "A few of the scientists, including Rodney, were a bit under the weather last week with similar symptoms, but they threw it off quickly enough. I wouldn't be surprised if you caught the same bug." He palpated the glands in Sheppard's neck and was apparently satisfied with the results. "I see no need to drag you all the way down to the infirmary at the moment. How about I send a nurse down to check on you at regular intervals instead?"

"Really?" Sheppard perked up hopefully. "That would be great."

"_Provided_ you don't acquire any additional symptoms, your fever remains manageable, _and_ I like the look of your test results," the doctor qualified. He picked the radio up off the floor and placed it back within easy reach on the nightstand and glanced around the room. "Do you have a glass or a cup?"

"In the bathroom."

The doctor rose and returned a few seconds later with a full glass of water, handing it to Sheppard along with a couple of Tylenol from a bottle he had procured from the depths of his labcoat. He kept one hand on the glass and one on Sheppard's back to steady him while the colonel swallowed down the white tablets.

While Beckett refilled the glass, Sheppard scrunched down in the bed, trying to get comfortable.

Returning, the doctor placed the water on the table beside the radio. With a practiced flick of his wrist, the bed clothes fell to order, settling over the colonel in an even layer and finally covering the errant foot. After glancing at the table one last time to assure himself that anything the sick man might need was in easy reach, he rose to leave.

"Hey, Doc?" Sheppard blinked at him drowsily from his warm cocoon.

Carson paused in the doorway and turned with a questioning look.

"Thanks for the house call," he said, sincerely.

The doctor gave him a quiet smile. "You're quite welcome, Colonel."

**END**


	15. In the Swim

Takes place after "Grace Under Pressure"

I grew up in an area surrounded by a large reservoir and cursed with long, hot summers. Because of that, everyone I knew could swim from an early age -- so, it always surprises me that there are people who go their whole lives without ever needing or wanting to learn how. :-)

**

* * *

**

**I****N THE SWIM**

As Sheppard took another cautious step, his previously firm footing gave way to nothing. Calmly treading water, he held out his hand in invitation. "Just one step, Doc," he encouraged. Beckett eyed him warily as the warm water lapped around his waist, but made no move to take the hand. The colonel gave him a challenging grin. "You know you're going to have to, sooner or later."

The doctor closed his eyes briefly to gather his resolve and took the step that would remove him from the safety of the shallows and into the deep water.

"There you go," Sheppard cheered, supporting him with a grip on his elbow. "Now kick your feet and wave your arms." When it became clear the doctor was creating his own buoyancy, Sheppard released him and watched. "See, not so hard. You're getting the hang of it pretty quickly."

Unfortunately, at that moment, Beckett made a particularly uncoordinated move with one of his arms, bringing it above the water and splashing himself in the face. He sucked in a mixture of water and air and began to cough. Forgetting to tread water for a moment, his head dipped below the surface. Sheppard quickly reached out to assist the man but the doctor was already in panic mode and grabbed blindly at the colonel, pinning his arms and making it impossible for Sheppard to keep them both above water. Managing to grab a quick breath before they sank beneath the surface, the colonel struggled to free himself from the doctor's death grip and regain control of the situation. He quickly realized Beckett was a heck of a lot more muscular than he looked.

It struck Sheppard then, as the surface got further and further away, that maybe this had not been one of his better ideas after all. Sure, at the time it had seemed reasonable that all the expedition members should be able to pass a water proficiency test, especially after Zelenka had admitted to not being able to swim. He had told Weir it was just common sense. After all, they were in a city surrounded by water -- accidents happen. He had further argued that he wasn't planning on making Olympic champions out of the science staff; he just wanted them to be able to tread water for a few minutes in case of an emergency. In the end, Weir had to admit it was a logical safety precaution so he had drafted Lorne and one of the enlisted men, who had spent his summers as a lifeguard, to assist him.

After a few days of scouting around, they had found a likely area in the northern end of the city. Who knew what the Ancients had actually used the large vee shaped impression for, but Sheppard decided it would make a dandy swimming pool. Within a few weeks, Rodney and the rest of his fellow labrats had managed to not only figure out a way to fill the pool, but also to heat and filter the water as well. It turned out to be so popular that Sheppard had to set aside a designated time two mornings a week so that the non-swimmers could have their lessons in relative peace and safety.

Despite his trepidation, Zelenka had progressed fairly rapidly and within the first few classes was, if not happily, at least proficiently able to dog paddle across the pool. Once he received his satisfactory grade though, Sheppard never saw the man near the water again.

Most of the rest of the students followed suit, moving through the lessons rapidly and were soon able to keep their heads above water for ten or fifteen minutes at a time with ease. Some liked it so much that Lorne had started an intermediate class in the evenings for those who wanted to progress beyond the basics.

In time, the morning classes thinned out as people "graduated" and went back to their regular routines. There were only a few students left; most of whom, like Beckett, had been too busy with emergencies or had vital duties that could not be rescheduled until now. There was also one timid young woman who had refused, at the point of hysteria, to come anywhere near the pool. Weir had sent her to work with Heightmeyer after finding out she had had a near drowning experience as a child. Apparently no one had ever put two and two together -- namely that she never went out on any of the balconies or that her room was one of the few lacking an ocean view.

So that was how Sheppard found himself in his current situation – not about to die bravely at the hand of a hungry Wraith in defense of Atlantis; but rather ignobly, in the grip of one extremely panicked, and surprising strong, Scottish physician.

He heard a muffled splash and within seconds, Lorne and the enlisted man were forcibly pulling Beckett free and guiding the doctor towards the surface. Sheppard followed them, gasping for air as his head broke the water, his senses briefly overwhelmed by the unfiltered light and sound. He made his way over to where Carson was hugging the edge of the pool, his body wracked with soggy coughs.

As Lorne and his aide returned to their other charges, Sheppard rested an elbow on the pool's lip and patted the waterlogged doctor on the back. "You were doing real good there for a bit, Doc."

Beckett continued to cough but shot him a glare.

"Well you were," insisted Sheppard. "You just got a little panicked for a second. You'll do better next time, you'll see."

"Not, cough, cough, lesson, cough, insane, cough, cough, cough…"

Most of the words might have been missing, but the intent was clear. Sheppard smiled. "Now, Doc, you're the one who insists we take preventative measures when it comes to our health, which, for some reason, always seems to involve extra-large needles puncturing my ass. Think of this as a preventative against drowning."

"...bloody well _was_ drowning," Beckett managed to squeeze out before he was overtaken by another coughing fit.

They had been together long enough now that Sheppard knew exactly which buttons to press when it came to dealing with the physician. "Next time, your rescuer might not have a couple of extra people around to lend a helping hand and you'll both drown," he said, mercilessly turning on the guilt. He watched as Carson's fear for himself was replaced by fear for another, and knew he had won. "Come on." He pulled the doctor back toward the deeper water, wanting to get Beckett back on the horse, so to speak, as soon as possible. "We'll stay near the edge of the pool for now so you'll have something besides me to grab, if it'll make you feel safer."

"It might make _you_ feel safer," muttered the doctor, keeping one hand on the pool's edge as they neared the drop-off point.

Sheppard shot him a wry grin. "You _are _a hell of a lot stronger than you look, you know."

Beckett's lips quirked despite his nervousness and he stepped off into oblivion, still holding on to the pool's edge for dear life and moving his legs and free arm the way Sheppard had taught him.

"Now let go of the edge," Sheppard encouraged.

"Have you never heard the expression 'you can't teach an old dog new tricks'?" grumbled Beckett, loosening his grip on the pool's lip but not yet releasing it entirely.

"You're there, Carson. Trust me. Let go."

After a moment Beckett took a deep breath and did as he was bidden.

"Easy, you don't have to fight it so hard. It's water, not mud -- it doesn't take much to keep your head in the clear." Sheppard watched in approval as the doctor began to relax and get a feel for how much effort he needed to expend. "See, isn't this fun?" he asked, cheerfully.

"Oh, aye, great fun," agreed Beckett in a sarcastic tone. His head weaved back and forth slightly in time with the movements of his arms and legs.

An announcement came over the intercom Rodney had installed, echoing across the hard surfaces of the room. "Doctor Beckett, you're needed in the infirmary."

"Thank God!" said the physician, reaching out for the pool rim and pulling himself back into the shallows.

"Same time next week," Sheppard reminded him, flipping over and starting a lazy backstroke across the pool as Carson got out.

"Yes, lovely, can't wait," Beckett said without any real enthusiasm as he shrugged into a robe but then his eyes took on a wicked twinkle. "…right after the supply inventory. I think we need to order another gross of the extra-large needles."

This time it was Sheppard who was left coughing and sputtering in the pool.

END


	16. Liar's Tongue

I seem to be overcome by the warm fuzzy Beckett bunnies lately. The last few shorts in this series have focused on him. What's a girl to do -- the bunnies rule all.

Thanks to Jen for the beta!

* * *

**LIAR'S TONGUE**

Beckett pulled up a stool by the child's bed. Teyla had reported that the five-year-old girl had come down ill with a bad cough, so he had made a trip out to the mainland to check on her. As he reached for her wrist, she pulled away towards the woman who sat opposite him at her bedside. The woman embraced her and kissed the top of her head, shushing her.

"What's all this, then?" he asked the woman, surprised by the child's fear. He was always exceedingly gentle with the children of the village, most flocked to him when he visited -- though he was too much of a pragmatist to think they were attracted to his winning personality rather than the assortment of sweets he kept in his pocket whenever he visited.

"Her brother Tehanon has been scaring her with tales of large needles and sharp knives," said the woman, her mouth set in a grim line which boded ill for the boy once she got her hands on him.

Beckett frowned, trying to place the name. Yes, he remembered him now -- a bossy thirteen-year-old, and something of a bully if he recalled correctly. The boy and his playmates had been climbing trees and Tehanon had fallen and broken his wrist almost a year ago, now. The child's uncle had brought him to Atlantis for treatment and Beckett had x-rayed the arm and placed it in a cast. There hadn't even been any needles involved, but he remembered the boy had been a holy terror the entire time, trying the patience of his nurses with his tantrums and exceedingly bad behavior.

"Well, now, I'm guessing Tehanon tells you many things that don't turn out to be exactly true, doesn't he?" he asked the child, peering through her curtain of blonde hair.

She nodded and shifted slightly, staring out at him with big blue eyes from within the protective arms still encircling her.

"I'm sure your moth…Leena would not have let me in here if she thought I would hurt you." It was always safer not to make assumptions about familial relationships when it came to the Athosians. Wraith cullings often ripped families asunder. Fulfilling a long-standing tradition originally born of necessity, members of the village simply stepped in to fill the holes left by those taken.

The child glanced up wide-eyed at her companion.

"It is true, little one. You know your father would not have left you in my care if he thought I would let any harm come to you while he is away hunting."

The child relaxed slightly and released the woman, allowing Leena to prop her up on some pillows to make her more comfortable. The child had a coughing fit during the process and Beckett winced as the racking shook the tiny body.

He pulled the thermometer from his bag. "Do you know what this is?"

She shook her head, glancing at Leena uncertainly and receiving an encouraging smile and a pat on the hand in response.

"It's a wee birdy. He likes to talk to me." Beckett placed it in his ear and the thermometer beeped a few seconds later much to the amazement of the child. "Would it be okay if he talks to you?"

His small patient nodded her head and Beckett placed the thermometer in her ear, checking the reading a few seconds later. He turned it towards the child and pointed to the numbers. "He's telling me you have a bit of a fever." She looked at the reading with curiosity, then back to him, narrowing her eyes a bit as she apparently tried to decide if he was pulling her leg or not.

"He has a friend, you know. Would you like to meet him?" At the child's nod, he returned the thermometer to his bag, making it do a little dance along the way, and pulled out his stethoscope. She apparently found this device much more intimidating and Beckett saw fear spring up in her eyes. "This is my bird's friend," he reminded her, holding it out in invitation. She reached out tentatively and touched the device, calming a bit when she found nothing to fear. "Do you want to hear what he says?"

The child nodded cautiously and Beckett carefully placed the earpieces in her ears and held the bell to his chest. "Can you hear my heart beat?" he asked, exchanging an amused glance with Leena.

The girl's eyes widened in amazement and she nodded her head excitedly. He took the earpieces out of her ears and placed them in his own. "My turn now, alright?" She nodded again and he surreptitiously warmed the bell with his hand before sliding it under her shirt and placing it to her chest, listening to the telltale wheezing. "Can you sit up for me?" he asked after a few moments, moving the bell to her back when she complied. "Take some deep breaths for me, lass," he encouraged, listening to the rattling sound in her upper airway and putting a supporting hand on her back when she was overcome by another coughing fit. Leena held a soft cloth to the child's mouth as she spit out the thick yellow phlegm that had resulted.

He watched the tiny face wince in pain as she took a few deep breaths after the coughs subsided, lying back against the pillows. "Does it hurt here?" he asked her, tapping his finger just below her breastbone. At her nod, he gave her arm a sympathetic pat. "Alright then, lass, we're all done."

As he moved to put the stethoscope back in his bag, a tiny tentative hand on his arm stopped him. He tilted his head at her. "You want to listen some more?" At her emphatic nod, he put the device back in her ears and put the bell on her own chest. He smiled to see her enraptured by the sound of her own heartbeat before turning his attention to back to her caregiver. "She has bronchitis."

Leena gave him a confused frown and shook her head slightly at the unfamiliar term. "An inflammation in her lungs," he explained while patting his own chest and she nodded her understanding then. "It's not serious," he reassured her. "Keep her warm and have her drink plenty of fluids." He reached into his bag, pulling out several items and handing her a small bottle containing some white tablets. "This one," he said, "is for pain if she becomes too uncomfortable. No more than one pill every six hours, understand?"

"Yes."

He was glad Dr. Weir had requisitioned watches for the entire Athosian village. It made rendezvous, off-world trips, and shuttling the villagers back and forth between Atlantis and the mainland much more efficient when everyone used the same time scale -- not to mention making it easier to administer medication in a safe and timely manner.

He handed Leena a second small bottle and a spoon. "You can give her one spoonful before bed if the coughing keeps her awake at night." Leena nodded her understanding of the instructions.

"If she feels well enough to play, that's fine, but don't let her overexert herself," he said, lightly tapping the tip of the child's nose with his index finger and earning himself a small congested giggle. "I'll come back next week to check on her. In the meantime, if she seems to get any worse, send word to me immediately and I'll come right out."

Leena smiled down tolerantly as the girl put the bell of the stethoscope on her chest to listen. "I will. Thank you, Dr. Beckett."

"My pleasure, love." He gently reclaimed his stethoscope from the child and tucked it back into his bag, exchanging it for a grape lollipop, which brought a delighted grin to his young patient's face.

He gave Leena a thoughtful frown, contemplating the ethics of what he was about to suggest. One look at the child's endearing smile convinced him, though, that the end would justify the means. "Now then, let's see what we can do about Tehanon while I'm here." He gave the girl a conspiratorial wink and she grinned back at him, revealing purple teeth.

-o-

There was a scuffle outside. "I have found Tehanon, Dr. Beckett," said Leena, pushing the boy through the doorway and into the hut.

"Good, good," said Beckett. "Tehanon, come and sit down. I need to examine you to be sure you haven't caught what your sister has."

When the boy hesitated Leena gave him another not-so-gentle shove towards the doctor.

"Sit down here," Beckett said, indicating a chair at the table in the center of the room as he placed his bag on the table and began rummaging through it. Giving the little girl an exaggerated wink from behind her brother's back, he pulled out a knife, borrowed from Leena, and let it glitter in the light as he contemplated the edge. Nodding his satisfaction, he put it down on the table and then pulled out a large syringe that he used to irrigate wounds. The boy was so nervous he didn't even notice there was no needle in it.

"Whaaat are you going to do with those," asked Tehanon, his voice breaking as he swallowed nervously. Panic was written all over his face as he glanced toward the door where Leena was standing, arms crossed, blocking his only means of escape.

Beckett made a show of shooting some water into the air from the syringe. "I think you already know. After all, you described it in great detail to your sister."

He put the syringe down on the table and pulled out a tongue depressor. "Open, please."

After shooting a one last desperate glance at the unsympathetic Leena, he did as he was told. Beckett made a point of 'aahing' and humming a lot as he looked in the boy's mouth. "Well, lucky I came. You don't have what your sister has, but are coming down with a severe case of liar's tongue." He shot a pointed glance at the knife on the table. "If it gets much worse, we may have to amputate."

-o-

Holling found himself almost knocked to the ground as a teenage boy came rushing pell-mell from under a tent flap, too busy looking behind him to watch where he was going. As the boy crashed into him, the tall man instinctively reached out and grabbed an arm to steady him, only then realizing it was Tehanon. Knowing the teenager intimately from his bullying encounters with Jinto, he wondered what could be causing such a reaction.

A brief glance in the direction of the tent where Tehanon had emerged gave him his answer. Dr. Beckett was standing in the entrance holding a large syringe with a smirking Leena at his side. A girl child peeked out from between him, a gleeful smile on her face. Holling recognized her as Tehanon's often put-upon younger sister. Giving them nod, he spun the boy around to face the hut. "Were you looking for Tehanon, Doctor?" he asked, subtly loosening his grip and purposely allowing the boy to escape his grasp. "Wait, Tehanon, come back," Holling called after him, but without any real enthusiasm. The three adults exchanged complicit grins before Lenna chivied her charge back into bed.

**END**


	17. Still Waters Run Deep

Takes place while Rodney is recovering in the infirmary after "Grace Under Pressure."

Thanks to Heidi and Jen for the beta and suggestions!

* * *

**STILL WATERS RUN DEEP**

Beckett paused, his pen suspended in mid-air over the report he was writing as he tried to decide what had caught his attention. Something was off. His infirmary had its own cadence, its only symphony of background noise. The beeping of the monitors, the hum of machinery -- and though it was barely more than a whisper -- even the crashing of the sea could be heard. Whatever it was, though subtly disturbing, was not urgent. If there was anything too much amiss, he knew the monitors would be giving off alarms. He stood, making the rounds of the little infirmary, pausing at Rodney's bedside. In an attempt to keep the scientist's mind occupied during his stay, Dr. Weir had downloaded the SG-1 mission logs from the last databurst into a datapad -- something for which Carson had been profoundly grateful. Dealing with an injured Rodney was bad enough; dealing an injured and bored Rodney went beyond the patience of the proverbial saint…at least that's what his staff told him when they cornered him in his office.

The scientist was deeply engrossed in the report he was currently reading; so enraptured in fact, that he didn't even seem to have noticed the doctor's presence. Carson noted the slightly increased heartbeat, blood pressure, and respiration rates on the monitors with interest but without undo concern. The readings were on the high side of normal, after all. "Rodney?" When the scientist didn't acknowledge him, he frowned and tried again, this time a bit more forcefully, "Rodney!"

The scientist gave a guilty start as Beckett broke his concentration. "What?" he snapped, instantly defensive.

Carson noted his patient's pupils were slightly dilated as well. "Is everything alright?"

"Yes, yes," he replied, obviously irritated to have been interrupted. "Why do you ask?"

"Your vitals are a bit off." Curious, Beckett leaned over to get a better look at the datapad.

Rodney turned it away before the doctor could see what was on the screen and glared accusingly at the monitors, blushing slightly. "I'm fine, just engrossed in an SG-1 report."

Glancing at the monitors again, Beckett noted the readings had begun to decrease, heading down toward mid-normal.

"Must be _some_ report," said Sheppard, approaching the bed. Zelenka was right behind him. "PX7-445, I'll bet? I _thought_ that one would be your favorite."

McKay blushed an even brighter red and stuttered a bit, his tone was brusque and annoyed. "These mission reports, Colonel, have saved our lives more than once."

"No doubt," said Sheppard amicably, acknowledging the statement for the truth it was, but the wide grin that creased his face and his twinkling eyes suggested more than just mere agreement.

Zelenka suddenly became intensely interested in a small imperfection in the wall, his lips twitching in poorly suppressed amusement.

Crossing his arms, Beckett studied the men; obviously they were baiting Rodney and he wasn't sure he approved. True, the scientist was on the mend, but he was not yet fully recovered from his near-death experience. He needed rest, not aggravation. "What happened on PX7-445 that's so…"

"Stimulating?" supplied Sheppard quickly. He had to pause a moment to slap Zelenka on the back a few times as the scientist went into an uncontrolled coughing fit. "It's not so much what happen on the planet as what happened when SG-1 returned…or should I say SG-1s, plural," he replied, pausing and flicking a glance at the scientist as if to give Rodney a chance to tell the rest of the story if he chose to do so.

"It has to do with a metaverse…" began Rodney, seizing the opportunity eagerly and launching into a long and drawn out technical explanation which ended with Carson blinking at him in confusion.

Seeing the doctor's bewilderment, Zelenka, his eyes still watering slightly, broke down the technobabble as much as possible. "Several alternate universes became…entangled… the result was stargate teams from alternate realities converging on _our_ SGC." He waited a moment to let the physician process the information.

"There were fifty duplicate stargate teams from other realities at the SGC," said Sheppard, simplifying the information even further.

"Only thirty-six of them were actually SG-1…" began Rodney.

"Yeah, yeah," agreed Sheppard, cutting off the scientist before he could get going with the technicalities.

"I'm still not sure I understand. Are you saying there were thirty-six…copies…of Colonel Mitchell's team from other universes?" asked Beckett.

"Something like that," Zelenka said. He and Sheppard grinned at Rodney, receiving a glare in response.

Beckett frowned, still not understanding what the colonel and Radek found so amusing about the situation…or why it seemed to bother Rodney so much. "What happened?"

"Long story, short -- _one_ of the Samantha Carters figured out a way to send them all back to their own realities," said Sheppard, his grin getting wider as he shot Rodney another glance.

"Yes, yes, it all ended happily ever after," the scientist said quickly. "Don't you two have things you need to be doing? Radek, you were supposed to be working on the back-up Naquadah generators…" he added hastily, obviously trying to rid himself of his two antagonists before they could say anything more.

Taking in his patient's increasing agitation, Carson was inclined to cut the visit short despite his curiosity and walked the two men to the infirmary door, giving the colonel one last inquiring look.

"Just picture it, Doc-- I'm sure _he_ is-- thirty-six Samantha Carters in one room." Rolling his eyes appreciatively at the mental image, his face broke into another broad grin, and he couldn't resist adding one last parting shot just before stepping out the door, "I'm surprised you can find any measureable blood flow to his brain at all."

**END**


	18. Feel the Heat

Missing scene from "Inferno".

* * *

**FEEL THE HEAT**

"_This is the Daedalus. Are there any survivors aboard_?"

"Yes, sir. In fact, we have a pretty big passenger list," Sheppard announced happily. He could hear the Daedalus crew cheering in the background and allowed the triumph of their success to wash over him for a few seconds. "Teyla and Ronon?"

"_We're here as well, Colonel,"_ replied Teyla.

Sheppard returned Rodney and Beckett's relieved grins, then shot Norina a smile for good measure, which she mirrored. The euphoria was contagious. "One big happy family again," he quipped.

Caldwell, though, was all business as usual._ "Any injured?"_

"A few bumps and bruises," said Sheppard. "…and a slightly bent fingernail." McKay turned to narrow his eyes at him.

"_Please repeat, Orion. I didn't catch that last?"_

"Nothing."

"_What about damage? Can you fly the ship back to Atlantis?"_

"I was wondering that myself," he said, turning back to Rodney.

The scientist rolled his eyes in disbelief. "Haven't I managed enough miracles for _one_ day?" He continued to gripe as he checked some readings on the control board, "And did I even hear a 'thank you'?"

Approaching the scientist, Norina laid a hand on his arm. "I, and my people, thank you," she said, simply and sincerely.

"Oh, um…it was nothing...well, of course it was _some_thing…"

Sheppard shook his head in amusement. "Looks like we might need a tow," he told Caldwell.

"_I'll have Hermiod contact Dr. McKay to work out the particulars."_

"Great. Orion out." Sheppard rose and walked over to Norina, offering her his arm as Rodney continued to flounder. "Care to check on the rest of your people and reassure them that we're relatively safe?" he asked, ignoring McKay's scowl.

It took several hours for Rodney and Hermiod to work out a system that would allow the Daedalus to tow the ship through hyperspace, but they managed to make it back to Atlantis without further incident. When they arrived, the control room was awash with people. Family and friends greeted the latest arrivals, rejoicing to find them alive and well. Beckett had already headed for the infirmary, leaving Rodney, Sheppard, and Norina standing on one side of the control room while people flooded by.

"Now that we're back on Atlantis, there are several ancient devices I'd think you'll find very interesting," Rodney told Norina, his eyes roving over her in a very unscientific manner.

She was peering through the crowd, acknowledging familiar faces, and only half paying attention. "Thank you. I'm sure I will."

Sheppard flashed her his most charming smile. "Some of the views from the towers are breathtaking. I'd be happy to show you around once things settle down."

"I would enjoy that," she replied, still somewhat distracted. Suddenly her smile grew more luminous. "Seelene!" she shouted as she broke away from their group and ran toward one of the women in the crowd.

Rodney watched the two women hug. "Blondes must run in the family," he said approvingly as he admired Seelene's golden hair and sexy figure. Sheppard nodded in appreciative agreement. Both men's faces both took on a puzzled expression, though, as the two women kissed passionately before embracing again.

"Huh," said Rodney.

Sheppard crossed his arms in unconscious duplication of Rodney's posture as he tried to wrap his mind around the unexpected development. "Something tells me they're not sisters."

Norina brushed the back of her hand along Seelene's cheek and they kissed again.

Mouths slightly agape, the men continued to watch the couple's joyous reunion with unabashed fascination.

"Hot and steamy enough for you?" asked a voice behind them.

"_Oh_ yeah. Ow!" said Rodney as Sheppard's elbow to the ribs finally succeeded in getting his undivided attention. It was only then he realized that Weir and Teyla had approached them unnoticed. "I'm sorry …um…" He squinted at them, trying to regain his bearings. "What?"

"I asked if it was hot enough for you," prompted Weir. She frowned in bemusement when she saw a look of panic on both men's faces. "You _were_ trapped in an erupting volcano…"

"Oh! Yeah. The volcano was…um…hot," Sheppard agreed quickly. "Lots of lava."

"Lava turns water into steam," blathered Rodney. "So yes, it's hot and steamy here…there…well, um, that is to say it _was_…on Taranis, I mean…because of the volcano."

Weir raised an eyebrow at their disjointed replies. "Maybe you two had better let Carson check you out. I hear there was a lot of toxic gas."

Sheppard coughed unconvincingly into his hand a couple of times. "Good idea." Grabbing Rodney's arm, he gave the scientist a firm tug toward the doorway. Somewhat slower on the uptake, McKay took a couple of stumbling steps before he caught on and followed Sheppard's lead.

Weir turned back towards the two young women. They were standing side by side now, hands clasped, fingers entwined. Norina was talking animatedly to the chancellor, no doubt reporting the details of her adventure. Glancing over her shoulder at her men's quickly disappearing backs, she gave a tolerant but pitying shake of her head before shooting her companion a knowing look.

"Men," agreed Teyla.

**END **


	19. Unshackled

Missing scene from "The Hive".  
Rodney's POV after waking up from detox

* * *

**UNSHACKLED**

His whole body throbbed. Every single muscle and joint ached--even his toenails and hair seemed to hurt. But there was more, wasn't there? It escaped him for a moment. Why, again? Oh, right, the enzyme. His body positively thrummed against its absence. He felt wrung out and worse than he ever had in his life. Worse that when he toked that joint. Worse, even, than after seventy-two hours hopped up on Beckett's stimulants when the Wraith attacked.

His nose itched. Okay, every single part of him itched--itched with absence, but not necessarily with desire. Yes, his body missed the drug but that was a physical manifestation, not a mental one, right? Physical needs he could overcome, had overcome, plenty of times. Sleep? A mere suggestion in times of crisis, easily ignored; besides, there was always coffee. Food? Okay, that one maybe not so much. Sex? Well Sheppard did once accuse him of practically being a hermit.

Sheppard! His eyes shot open. How could he have forgotten about Sheppard and Teyla and Ronon? How long had he been lying here? Where was here? He _was_ safe on Atlantis, right? Or had that been just a dream, too? Looking around, he gave a relieved sigh. Yes, Atlantis, and not some drug-induced hallucination. He _had_ actually made it back. The infirmary was dark and quiet around him, peaceful even. He blinked in surprise when he realized Carson was fast asleep in a chair beside his bed. There were vague memories there, unpleasant ones at that. He pushed them aside for a greater need and reached out to shake the doctor awake but his arm wouldn't move.

What the hell? He was paralyzed? Nobody said anything about the Wraith enzyme causing paralysis! Maybe he would have thought twice about taking such a large dose if they had. No, wait; he felt his arms, his hands, his fingers. Could you be paralyzed and still feel? He tried moving again, this time he definitely felt a pulling against his wrists. It took several seconds for his sluggish brain to register that he was in restraints. He cycled through an entire kaleidoscope of emotions: disbelief, outrage, fear, shame, impatience. The last one won, as usual.

"Carson." It was barely more than a whisper, certainly not enough to wake the obviously exhausted doctor from his slumber. He licked dry lips. God, had something crawled into his mouth and died? It sure tasted like it.

"Carson!" he tried again louder. This time the physician jerked awake, worried eyes automatically moving towards the monitors before snapping back to his patient with the realization that he was awake.

He sat up straighter in his chair. "Rodney?"

"Who were you expecting?"

The doctor blinked, obviously dazed from too little sleep. He rubbed his eyes and checked the readouts on the monitor again, this time apparently processing them. "How are you feeling?"

"Restrained."

Another blink and then the eyes widened slightly as this particular meaning of the word registered.

"Sorry," said the physician as he peeled back the sheet and started to unbuckle the padded cuffs. "They were for your protection--and ours."

Had it been that bad? Had they been that afraid for him? _Of_ him?

As soon as his left wrist was freed he reached over and began worrying at the strap on his right.

"Let me," said Beckett, moving to the other side of the bed and making quick work of the buckle. As if anticipating his patient's next move now that freedom beckoned, he placed a hand on Rodney's chest, keeping him in place as pulled a penlight from his pocket.

"I'm better now," insisted the scientist, but submitted to the test. He couldn't accomplish what he needed to do from an infirmary bed, and a little cooperation now might go a long way in getting him where he needed to go as soon as possible.

"You cannae be much worse than you were," agreed the Scot, tucking the light back into a pocket with a small sad smile. "But you do seem to be much improved."

"Good." Rodney reached out and grasped the doctor's arm, pulling himself upright. The room spun dizzily around him and the edges of his vision blackened. He held his breath, determined not to pass out, and after a few moments things settled down.

"I suppose it would do no good for me to tell you that you should remain in bed and rest?"

"How long have I been back?"

"Almost two days."

_Two days?_ "No, it wouldn't."

"I thought not," replied the doctor as he removed the I.V. and started on the sensor pads.

"No arguments?"

"Your vitals have been stable for several hours. After a shower and a hot meal, you'll probably be in better shape than I am," yawned the doctor. "We can discuss how incredibly stupid you were when this crisis is over."

"Fine." Normally he'd have a snappier response, but he suspected Beckett was probably right in his assessment. It had been an incredibly idiotic and desperate thing to do, even if there _hadn't_ been any other choice. "Elizabeth?"

"In her office. No you don't!" insisted the doctor, grabbing his arm as he flipped the sheet aside and launched himself off the bed. He would have resisted but suddenly found himself in dire need of support as his rubbery legs refused to obey and abused muscles screamed in protest. Beckett managed to steer him into the previously vacated bedside chair. "Not so fast. I told you, a shower and a hot meal."

"Sheppard…"

"Do you know where he is right now, right at this moment?"

"Well, no, but…"

"But nothing. You'll be able to think more clearly after you have something tae eat." The doctor considered him for a moment. "Just how long has it been since you ate?"

"I don't know. We tried not to eat too much on account of Chef Psycho-Ford and his 'soup de drugs'."

The doctor grunted. "If you think you can stand without falling on your arse, I'll have some food brought down while you shower and change."

"Yes, alright, fine."

Beckett steadied him as he rose, and after a few moments, Rodney was happy to find his legs, though wobbly, supported him this time. He shrugged off the doctor's help and headed for the shower, his muscles loosening up more and more as he moved. If Beckett wanted to play mother hen, fine. He'd jump through whatever hoops were necessary to gain his freedom, and hopefully that of his team as well. Besides, he could hardly go running around the city dressed in scrubs and reeking of...well, of things he didn't even want to think about.

Flashes of memory washed over him along with the hot water. He dearly hoped things hadn't been as bad as he recalled, but he doubted it. Desperately wishing he had a toothbrush, he scrubbed at his fuzzy teeth with a squeaky finger. Stepping out of the stall, he found an electric razor and a pile of clean clothes stacked neatly in a chair. He smiled. Carson might be keeping an eye on him, but these were real clothes, not scrubs. This wasn't going to be as hard as he thought.

The constant thrumming was more noticeable now that the water was no longer pounding against his flesh but he steadfastly ignored it as he dressed and shaved. Mind over matter he insisted stubbornly. He had ignored much more important things in the past and flatly refused to consider _this_ need as legitimate--and if there was one thing he knew he excelled at, it was victory via stubbornness. Body could go to war with mind all it wanted. Body didn't stand a chance in hell against _this_ mind. Without the drug influencing his thinking, he knew what he wanted--and it wasn't to be a craven junkie addicted to something harvested out of a Wraith armpit that made him act like an idiot savant.

He picked up the scrubs from the floor, grimacing at the smell, and deposited them in a laundry bin on the way out of the bathroom.

The fragrance of baked chicken set his mouth watering. Beckett was sitting at a small table, two plates of what was probably tonight's supper lay steaming on it. The doctor had a fork in hand, but so far hadn't managed to connect it to anything on his plate. The eyes that acknowledged his return were half-lidded, red-rimmed, bluish pits.

This was definitely going to be much easier than he first thought.

He shoveled down the food ravenously, slowing only when Carson insisted, tiredly, that he was going to make himself sick. He wouldn't have bothered even then, but he was feeling a little queasy, so he slowed his pace while the doctor held up a heavy head with one hand, elbow resting precariously near the mashed potatoes.

By the time he was done, Beckett's eyes were closed, so he rose hastily and headed for the door.

"Rodney…"

He paused, tensing. The guard who had been on duty when he went into the shower was gone now and there was no one but an exhausted Scot to stop him from leaving. No drugs would be required to escape this time. "Yes?"

"Good luck."

Smiling slightly, he relaxed a bit. "Thanks, Carson." Pausing at the doorway, he turned and considered the man before him--undoubtedly the only reason he was still among the living. "For everything."

But the doctor's eyes had already slid shut again, elbow awash in a sea of reconstituted potato flakes.

Slipping quietly out the door, Rodney headed out to find Elizabeth and get his team back.

**END**


	20. Sheppard's Book of Computer Repair

**John Sheppard's Book of Computer Repair  
(A step by step process for non-geeks)**

When encountering a computer problem (especially when you are just moments from finishing a report that took you all morning to write) try the following:

**Step #1**  
Stare at computer in disbelief.

**Step #2  
**Repeat the previously ignored command you just gave the computer over and over until it locks up completely.

**Step #3**  
Repeat the following mantra "No. No, no, NO, NO, NOOOOOO!"

**Step #4**  
Hit the "return" key several times as hard as possible, immediately segue into step #5.

**Step #5**  
Randomly slam keys on the keyboard until "blue screen of death" appears.

**Step #6**  
Unabashedly beg the computer for forgiveness. When that doesn't work…

**Step #7  
**Slap the monitor several times until it goes completely black.

**Step #8**  
Bang head on table repeatedly.

**Step #9  
**Accept the fact that your report is probably lost somewhere amongst the magical plastic cards that make up the computer. Sigh heavily.

**Step #10**  
Turn off computer.

**Step #11**  
Wait one minute while resisting the urge to kick computer through doorway.

**Step #12**  
Turn computer on and allow to reboot.

**Step #13**  
Curse violently at screen when smug "next time shut down windows properly" message appears.

**Step #14**  
Vainly attempt to find report somewhere on hard drive.

**Step #15**  
After spending more time trying to find the report than it actually took you to write it, take laptop to nearest available science geek.

**Step #16**  
Restrain self from strangling science geek while he/she shakes his/her head condescendingly, pulls up your missing document within three seconds, then lectures you on the proper handling of laptops.

**Step #17  
**Grit teeth. Thank geek.

**Step #18  
**Return to desk and complete last bit of report.

**Step #19**  
Enter command to print document.

**Step #20  
**When report will not print, check to see if printer is plugged in. Out of ink? Turned on? Out of paper?

**Step #21**  
Curse.

**Step #22**  
Violently kick anything within reach (except laptop).

**Step #23  
**Sit on bed and rub sore foot.

**Step #24  
**Admit defeat.

**Step #25**  
Blow off report and go grab a sandwich in the mess hall instead. I highly recommend the turkey.

END


End file.
